Tamriel Rebuilt:Nadael Illulivad

Book Compilation
Added by	Tamriel Rebuilt
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This is a compilation of books assembled for easier reading.

Nadael Illulivad

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Vol I

Nadael Illulivad was a young Wood-Elf who grew up in the land of Vvardenfell. At a young age, his parents abandoned him to a poor family in Balmora, where he learned to steal and pickpocket in order to pay for food. Before long, Nadael had grown very adept at these skills. In fact, by the age of nine years, he had become a prominent member of the local Thieve's Guild, performing tasks which required smaller body types.

One day, during his fifteenth year, Nadael returned home after emptying the wares of a local merchant, only to discover his foster-parents had been murdered, and their house lie in ruins. After searching through the rubble, the astute young Illulivad discovered a broach with six intertwining prongs.

Nadael's sense of loss was overwhelming, and from blurry eyes, he wiped away tears, which left streaks through the grime on his cheeks. Nadael pocketed the broach and vowed to find those who had murdered his foster-parents. Years later, his quest would be widely known and chronicled, as The Travels of Nadael Illulivad.

Leaving the ruins of his home, Nadael sought out N'neyya, a Khajit [sic] from the Thieve's Guild, and informed her of the deaths of Tali and Ormin Illulivad. N'neyya was shocked beyond belief, and recalled a group of hooded bandits who had been observed fleeing across the river Odai in broad daylight, yet hidden in shadows. She urged him to leave quickly, for any trail they may have left would soon disappear. Nadael wished N'neyya a fond fairwell, and left the city.

As the young thief stepped onto the bridge over the Odai River, he looked back at Balmora, and realized there was nothing there for him. Even the Thieves Guild had lost its lure in his eyes, for only revenge burned in his throat. With those thoughts trailing in his mind, Nadael turned away from his former life, and took the first step on his long and eventful journey.

Vol II

Nadael awoke to the sound of Hirvok, the innkeeper of The Deepening Pool, (which would, years later, become Arrille's Tradehouse) yelling at the top of his lungs. From what the young thief could discern from the sputtering and spitting, it was something about counterfeit gold pieces and the nerve of some people.

He turned over and pulled the scratchy wool over his ears. He'd been tracking his foster parent's murderers for four days, and got as far as Seyda Neen before losing their tracks to the sea. Exhausted, and with not a bent coin to his name, he went to The Deepening Pool and traded a week of hard labor for a place to sleep.

Unfortunately, Hirvok had not promised good sleep, and as Illulivad lay amongst the empty apple barrels and dirty dishes, restless, he happened upon a plan. He would work until he had earned enough money to get him on a ship heading for the mainland, and there he would resume his search.

Of course, it was hopeless. He had to work his hands to the bone merely to get a place to rest at night, and travel was so expensive...

He could swim, of course, and was even proficient at it, but swimming all the way... it was preposterous! It couldn't be done! There were some small specks of land, tiny isles and inlets between Vvardenfell and the mainland he could rest on, but the chances of finding one of these was about the same as finding an underground tunnel to Skyrim!

A chance came at the end of the week in the form of a large ship bringing supplies for Seyda Neen - food, clothes, and weapons to protect against the mudcrabs that frequented the area. When it docked and the crew left the confines of the boat to get something other than salted hound meat, he made his move.

Nadael crept from The Deepening Pool, now filled nearly to the brim with sailors resting their sea legs on solid ground. Their drunken laughs and Hirvok's roars of anger would continue until the boat left the following morning.

The night watchman sat on the rail surrounding the edge of the ship, singing a merry little song to himself. A tossed stone was a good enough distraction for him and the young thief pulled himself up over the rail and snuck down as far as he could go in the ship. He tucked himself into an empty barrel and fell asleep.

The next morning, Illulivad awoke from his light sleep and rubbed his eyes. On the deck above, the captain was yelling.

"Welcome back, landlubbers! Fetch up and man your posts! We're headed to Ebonheart, so look sharp!"

Nadael smiled to himself and fell back asleep, dreams of the mainland and finding the people he was searching for in his head.

Vol III

The sun was getting low, and its red light cast long shadows of the buildings of Ebonheart. Nadael Illulivad snuck out of his hiding place on the supply ship as Jodran the captain shouted curses at the dock guards. The guard he was engaged with at the moment was an elderly man with a helmet too large for his frail head, that coused it to constantly bobble and shake around. The wormy tendons on the back of his hands worked tirelessly as he screamed back at Jodran.

Nadael slipped into the shadows and headed down the streets. In a few minutes, he came upon the Thieves Guild of Ebonheart and went inside the building. He was greeted there by a khajiit wearing a dark red robe.

"Greetings, young thief," he said with a throaty accent. "De'rzhenn sees you at Balmora district before. Talented you are. This De'rzhenn knows. Why come you here to Ebonheart?"

"My parents were murdured. I am searching for the people who own one of these." He pulled out the brooch, red with six intertwining prongs. "I found it in the wreckage of the house I lived in. Have you seen it before?"

"De'rzhenn has seen the thing of which you seek. A dark elf merchant by the name of Garett has sign with this symbol on it." Nadael turned to leave, but the khajiit stopped him. "De'rzhenn knows Nadael wants quick redemption, but I knows it would be foolish to rush into the shop. Sneaking through back window would be what De'rzhenn would do. Here," He handed the young thief a master's lock pick. "Tali and Ormin Illulivad were good people, yes. Take this lock pick; you'll need it to get through the window, De'rzhenn thinks. De'rzhenn wishes you good luck."

Nadael grasped the khajiit's hand, thanked him, and left. It was dark now, and the two moons hung ominously overhead.

The shop, when he found it, was of normal Imperial design; all squares and boxes. He went around to the back window, as De'rzhenn had suggested, and began to work at the window's lock. There was a sharp whisper of his name, a great pain in the back of his skull, and Nadael knew no more.

Vol IV

Nadael awoke to the taste of blood and bile. *How long have I been here* he thought to himself. He groggily opened his eyes and winced at the intense light, then squeezed his tired lids shut again.

*Where am I? Why am I here?*

He opened one eye to a slit and found the pain to be less, then slowly opened wider as his pupils adjusted. As he looked around, he realized he was chained to a wall by his wrists. The wall was built of gray stone, and there were no windows. The door on the opposite side of the small room was of a dark brown wood. The only lights in the room came from torches on the wall and from a crack beneath the door, still enough to cause a headache in Nadael's skull.

*Who brought me here? Did I come here on my own?*

As Nadael turned his head, he saw the symbol on the wall, a red oval with six intertwining prongs coming off of each end, and it all came back to him. He was in Ebonheart, and probably in a dark elf merchant named Garrett's basement.

At just that moment, the door came swinging open. A dumner [sic] came striding through the door, dressed in gaudy clothes and wearing a grin from ear to ear.

"Ah, Nadael, my young friend. You're finally awake! I was starting to think you were dead! Now, how are you feeling, muthsera?"

*This man killed my foster parents*, the tortured thief thought.

"Mnumnnn..." He groaned.

"Oh, yes, that's right, the paralysis hasn't completely worn off yet. Ah, well, I suppose you are wondering why I have you all tied up like this, don't you. And why I killed those two fools you were living with. They were barely bright enough to raise a dagger when my assassins bashed down their door..."

"Munmunmnn..." Nadael hated hearing this. Why couldn't he move?

Garrett grinned even wider, and crinkles spread to the sides of his red eyes. "Well, it's all right. They were just your foster parents, after all. Your real parents have been dead for such a long time, though, they must have felt like your real parents."

*Why? Why couldn't he just shut up?*

"Or were your real parents dead? Did you ever truly know they were dead? Or, perhaps, did they just abandon you, because they knew there was no way they could take you with them? Or what if they left you with something? What if the only way they knew to keep it safe was to keep it with you?"

*What is he talking about?*

"But what if this something wasn't a physical thing? What if it was a trait, the ability to go unseen, but not by hiding in shadows that are already there, but by creating your own? Do you know who made the attack on your house? The ones who, when finding you were not there, destroyed it and gave you the clue that led you to me?"

*No, no, please-*"Eris! Inni! Come here!"

*No, no, why-*Two Bosmer, one male, the other female, wearing dark red hoods and the broach with six prongs walked up to the dumner [sic].

"They are your mother and father, Nadael. They tried to hide you, so long ago. But then I found them, and broke them. They are now my best servants. And someday, you will be too."

Nadael squinted into the light and saw the faces of his parents, cold, hard faces with deep lines, looking straight ahead. Eris turned his head slowly and looked at his son.

Nadael vomited blood, and fainted.

Vol V

The pain. The constant, tearing pain. This is all Nadael thought about, this is all he could think about, along with the smell of searing skin and burning flesh, and the taste of his own blood. There were no terms for how long he'd been here, chained up, tortured constantly and falling into fitful unconsciousness.

Garrett. That was the name of the dark elf that he was being held captive by. And his parents, his real parents...

They had been broken by the dumner [sic]. And now here he was, being broken himself. There was no way he could hold out much longer against the brainwashing and torture; he'd just lose his will and become another slave, a mindless slave to Garrett. His grasp on reality was slipping.

*Why won't someone rescue me? They know I'm here, where are they?*

A shadow came into the light beneath the door. Nadael tensed, but the shadow passed on. The shackles on his hands and feet kept his ankles and wrists so raw the air burned them...

But the shadow hadn't gone. It was back again, stopping as it reached the door. Nadael could hear heavy breathing on the other side as the doorknob slowly turned.

It sticks, Nadael thought feverishly. It sticks right before it opens, and then there's the pain...

The handle stuck, and the person on the other side turned it back, and tried again, harder this time. Light snuck through the edge and there was Garrett, standing in the doorway, silhouetted by the bright light of day.

*No, wait. That's not-*

"Nadael." It was a female voice.

*Why is she here?*

His mother walked up to him and laid a hand on his face. "Nadael," she said again.

"Wh-why are you h-h-here?" Nadael coughed on the last word, spitting blood from his mouth.

"Your father. You never knew him, did you? He was a great man. I'm so sorry for what I've done, what we've done...Garrett, he killed Eris; your father. That snapped me out of this trance I've been in for ten, no, fifteen years. I don't know how well I've hid this from that horrible dark elf, but we have to escape now. Before he can do what he did to us to you."

"Absolutely, but-" Nadael's mother interrupted him again.

"Oh, that's right. Here you go, I picked this off of Garrett this morning."

The grown wood elf took a key from her sleeve and slid it into the shackles with a click. Nadael fell to the floor and rubbed his wrists, then stood up shakily, his calves and thighs aching. His mother supported him almost to the door when she heard a noise behind her.

"Inni, what are you doing? I didn't give you...Oh, you're mad about your little husband. Well, as long as you're going, take this little farewell present."

Garrett stuck a five inch-long dagger into her chest. Soundlessly she fell to the floor.

"Ah and you, Nadael. You haven't outlived your welcome at all! Stay, please!"

The young thief limped over to his fallen mother.

"In fact," intoned Garrett, "I insist."

He wiped the blood off of the knife on his pants, and started walking towards Illulivad.

"Don't worry, I won't kill you. Well, not yet. First I'll just cut out your knees, then maybe your eyes..."

Nadael shrugged up closer to the door.

"Actually, it's your decision. Do you really care all that much about your ears? Yes? How about your nose? Well, if you're- guh!"

Garrett slumped to the floor, the tip of a short sword protruding through his open mouth. Nadael ran up to his mother and kneeled by her bleeding body.

"Nadael..." She whispered, "I'm...we're sorry." The light faded from her eyes, and Nadael closed the lids. He turned and limped from Garrett's shop, and looked into the sunrise. It was over. Finally.